


Haunted houses are good for family fun

by Bellus_hiemalis



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic, The Adventures of Sinbad (Anime)
Genre: Blood, F/M, Jafar is just being nice smiling murdery jafar, Jk Sinbad has the (slight) hots for Jafar is chapter 2, M/M, Multi, Murder, Ship isn’t till later chapter probably, Suicide, Underage stuff...maybe? Nothing really happens, Violence, a lot of these first tags are in chap 1 and Ja’far is the cause
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 13:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19746940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellus_hiemalis/pseuds/Bellus_hiemalis
Summary: There is something beautiful about leaving your life behind.But what if you can’t leave it behind? What if you’re stuck there? With nothing but yourself to entertain you.(Ja’far is a ghost. Sinbad and his family moved into his house. And Ja’far takes the slightest shine to the poor, young, adventurous lad.)





	1. Blood

**Author's Note:**

> I probably won’t have an update schedule as I don’t have a, You know...Plot? But I will finish it! Because I hate it when you find a fic that’s unfinished!
> 
> This thing just kinda happened but I love horror and scary stuff so I decided to write a ghost!Ja’far fic.
> 
> Also I realised I accidentally fucked up, Sinbad is 15-16 not 14. Sorry.

He had been afraid of death in the beginning of his life, but who wasn’t? Later he had found it quite fun, when he took other peoples life’s, and at last...

_(His blood had seeped out in the tub filling the bottom before he had passed out...)_

And after that you ask? Nothing.

For awhile it was nothing. Quite cliche, no?

After some time (minutes, hours, days or years?) the nothingness became something, light threaded through and I was...back? I rose up from the bloody hunched up state I was in and walked away, leaving my lifeless, rotting body in the bloody tub.

_(There is something awful about leaving things behind, even if it better to leave them be.)_

Going out of the bathroom I walked through my house. Simple thing really, but as I had let the knife run over my wrists and veins, I never expected to see it again.

_(There is something horrifying about knowing it was the end, but what could I have done? Did I really want to stop?)_

With fresh blood painting my pale features I walked to my bedroom, white, pristine sheets and a dark brown cover laid still as the morning I left.

_(Is it good or bad to feel relieved seeing something is the exact same as you left it? Do you want it be still or go on without you?)_

Running his pale hand over the bed he found that the blood didn’t tarnish the bed, the covers moved around when he touched them, but no blood. He laid down on the bed, it sunk as if his body was still there.

Letting himself close his eyes he began feeling light. As if his body, again was wandering away from this Earth. Opening his eyes he smiled as his hand was nearly see-through, a warm smile rested on his lips as he slowly sunk into unconsciousness once again.

———————

He learned to live with it, death. It wasn’t hard over coming that he had ended his life.

Much easier them you would think, actually. He didn’t need to eat, drink or sleep. Even though he sometimes missed it, the tiniest bit.

He sighed, leaning back in the old armchair. Patches of the worn leather hanging of, Threatening to fall of the wooden frame.

He turned his head to the ceiling, breathed out, closed his eyes as blood began to run down his pale face and he slowly began to fade.

The curtains moved as if a cold wind had gone throughout the room, even if there were no open windows.

The front door to the old house slammed open making Ja’far jump, a boy, not older than 16, with long purple hair tied up into a ponytail ran inside. His golden eyes filled with excitement, looking around the room they were in.

Ja’far got caught off guard when he ran inside and jolted from his sleep as the young lad ran practically jumped around the living room.

“Sin! Wait up!” A woman’s worried voice came from outside.

“No worries Esra, Sinbad is a man, isn’t he?” He heard a chuckle as a seemingly amused (and handsome, Ja’far noted) man came inside.

Ja’far took in his form, dark purple hair going down over his broad shoulder, he was taller than him, easy. The man limped as he walked, using a crutch to hold himself up, Ja’far’s eyes traced the man’s leg, knee down it was missing.

A woman rushed in after, her dark, braided hair swayed around her. Her low heeled shoes making a click-click-click sound as she came inside. Her brow furrowed as She half sprinted towards her son. “Sinbad, please don’t rush of like that!” She exclaimed.

_Ah, moving in I see._ It was an old house. Not many people wanted to live in a rundown house. Even if it had four stories (cellar, ground floor, second floor, attic) and a garden, the garden was filled with dead prickly roses though, not appealing to many.

Oh, and that it was rumoured to be haunted. But that was a stupid and impossible rumour, ghost didn’t exist, right?

“It’s okay, what can happen?” The young boy, ‘Sinbad’, said.

“Still don’t run off like that.” The woman calmed down and looked around the living room.

He sighed again, spending the rest of the time observing the family as they moved their things in, sometimes following them around the house.

————— The man and Esra was taking the big room upstairs and the young boy took the tiny bed room in the attic.

(He had said things like “I’m fine, a tiny room in a dark attic is nothing!”)

When Ja’far first heard it his stomach had wanted to turn inside out, that was his old bedroom. The tiny one in the attic is his, and he would like to keep it like that way.

He panicked and ran, making a cold chill going throughout the room, leaving the curtains swaying as he grabbed the key and locked the door.

The smell of blood in the bathroom, water turning red, people getting nightmares, lights flickering and many other things in that room he couldn’t help. He didn’t want someone to experience in again.

——————

He watched as the family ate dinner. They laughed and joked around, Ja’far thought of his own mother and father, the way they had tormented and abused him.

_Until he had killed them._

The picture of a couple laying lifeless in blood dripping around them made its way into the dead man’s skull.

_(People so close...but so far away in a second.)_

A crooked smile made its way upon his lips.

_(The way the blood had splattered upon the walls...)_

He shrugged the feeling off. Esra and the man, who he now knew was named ‘Badr’, seemed like great parents.

He looked at them, sitting at the table, ‘Badr’ teased Sinbad about being a man, seemingly about his behaviour about the room in the attic.

Sinbad huffed. His dad liked teasing him. He didn’t like it, but didn’t hate him for it. He looked over at the old armchair that was standing in the living room, every time he glanced over at it he got goosebumps.

He had the feeling of being watched. The same thing happened when he found the door to his room-to-be locked. He loved adventures, and figuring out this if this house was haunted or not was gonna be his next.

His mom had told him to explore the garden instead but what was the fun in that?

“hey Sin, school’s starting up next month...” she shoot a quick glance towards her son.

“WHAT!!” He shoot up from his chair. Not believing what he had heard, school starting so soon?!

“Yeah...” Esra said, shaken at his reaction.

Ja’far couldn’t help but chuckle at the way the boy had yelled, it had been the tiniest bit adorable. Ja’far himself had always liked school. People freaking out like that was always fun.

_(People freaking out over blood being splattered was also incredibly fun...)_

He shook the feeling off once again.

Sinbad froze. A chuckle..? He heard it, he was sure. Was someone or something...laughing at him? He glanced over at the armchair again, not getting a chill but almost a warm fuzzy feeling up his spine. There was definitely something going on here.

—————

His dad said that tomorrow he can get his tools, break open the door and check why it was locked. But tonight he needed to sleep in the living room, on the couch, that had been placed close to a large window that gave a view of the dead garden.

He sighed and rolled over to his side.

Ja’far didn’t really care about Sinbad sleeping in the living room.

But he sat there too, even if its just because he didn’t care enough to move from the spot he had been sitting in before.

He observed the boy up close. Sinbad couldn’t been older than 14 or 15. Purple hair spread out on the pillows, his eyes tightly squeezing together. He chuckled softly as he went closer to the boy. Sitting on the edge of the sofa he began stroking his hair gently.

He could _feel_ it. The soft strands gliding through his fingers.

Okay, something was wrong. He kept his eyes shut but he could feel _something_ stroking his hair.

Yeah, wrong really _fucking_ wrong.

It continued like that for five minutes before he opened one eye scanning the room quickly before shutting it and curling himself into a ball. “I don’t know what you are, but stop...please.” He whispered. Squeezing his eyes shut. Praying to every deity he knew.

Ja’far stopped when he heard the muffled plead from the boy. He didn’t really think before whispering softly in Sinbad’s ear. “Sorry... you just looked cute sleeping...” Not that Sinbad would hear him, nobody did.

“What kinda pedophile ghost are you!?” He jumped up, being only in his boxers and looking frantically around the room.

Then Something in the mirror caught his eye. He screamed so loud the mirror might have shattered. A pale, scrawny, bloody thing sat on the couch, where he had been sleeping. The thing turned and walked slowly towards him, it’s pale body illuminated by the moonlight and nearly glowing in the dark. He froze on the spot and didn’t dare turn around. Just when the thing reached out it’s long claws his parents came running down the stairs. Or his mom did, his father was behind her.

“Sin! What happened!?” She ran towards her son and hugged him tight.

“Mom! There- there is-“ he frantically began, tears threatening in the corner of his eyes.

She hugged him and patted his head a few times. “Now tell me what happened.”

~~~ “So you’re saying you felt someone-“

“Something.”

“Something touching you. Then a ‘something’ whispering in your ear.

“Yeah, sounds messed up but I felt weird chills and thought I heard things during the day too!” He looked at his parents with wide eyes.

Badr and Esra looked at each other. “Dear...when you have just moved things-“

“I can’t prove it, but I saw it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. Knowing exactly what his parents were trying to say.

“I’m sure the ghost won’t do any harm if you asked nicely.” Badr muttered. Bags under his eyes as he yawned.

“Sure, HEY PEDO GHOST GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!!” He yelled jolting Badr awake.

“Both of you, can we go to sleep?” Badr looked at Sinbad and sighed. “You can sleep with us if you would like.” Sinbad nodded.

“Can I check out if someone died in this house tomorrow?” Sinbad’s eyes sparked up. “That’s what they always do in horror movies!” “Sure..” _I just want to sleep._

—————

“Here.” Badr slid a bunch of papers towards him when he sat down at the table to have breakfast.

“What?” “Here is a list of people that died in this house.” He took a sip from his coffee cup. “The red names are criminal that were tortured and murdered by a former assassin that used to live here.”

“A What!?” Sinbad all but jumped up from his seat.

“Assassin, his name was Ja’far.” Badr leaned backwards where he sat.

“He was...a twisted person... In short words.” He sighed before he continued “Ja’far, some people used to call him Mr. Snake, as a rude nickname.” He sat down the empty cup in front of him.

Sinbad shoot him a confused glance, Mr. Snake? Honestly?

“He was a former assassin, always had some connection to criminal business, even when he was younger than you. Used to kidnap rapist, pedophiles and other scum, tie em up in the basement, torture them in gruesome ways... then sell their body parts at the black market.” Badr looked down at the papers.

“He was usually described as a rude, grumpy, workaholic man. Others say he was kind, thoughtful and always soft spoken, specifically with children.” He chuckled light heartedly. “The things I found were mostly nice though...”

“He used to live here...?” Sinbad asked. If a ghost of that kind lived in his house...

“Yeah...in the room upstairs, he tried hanging himself, overdosing, jumping off buildings... when that didn’t work he stabbed himself multiple times and slit his own throat and let himself bleed out in the bathtub.”

“Oh... is there a picture? Of this assassin guy?” Sinbad asked his dad. Curiosity taking over the fear.

Badr picked up the paper and flipped through them before picking up an old newspaper article.

“There.” He pointed at the photo in the top left corner. The photograph showed a handsome young man with pale skin, white hair and big black (grey?) eyes. He was wearing a dark brown suit jacket, green undercoat and a green bow tie. Sinbad could also see the beginning of his black dress pants that vanished at the bottom of the photograph.

A small but determined smile rested on his lips.

“He was the one that built this house.” “Oh...” He observed the photo closer.

“You said he died by stabbing himself, right?..”

“Correct.”

Sinbad thought about the night before. The pale and bloody thing that had showed up in the mirror.

“..I saw a thing in the mirror... it was incredibly pale... and bloody...” he turned towards his dad.

“Pale and bloody. Dad do you think..?”

“I don’t want to be involved at all, thank you. Find out for yourself if you want to.”

“Ok...” he sulked but shoved down his breakfast.

——————

After breakfast he had taken all the papers and ran upstairs.

Throwing them on his bed he began to skim through them.

He sorted them out and gathered all of those that had anything to do with ‘Ja’far’ and read them through time and time again.

He was so caught that he didn’t notice the cold wind spreading through out the room as a pale, bloody man staggered into the room.


	2. Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sinbad gets to meet the very friendly ghost that haunts his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad for writing some stuff in this chapter. Also Sinbad is like, 14/15 in this. (Wrote 15/16 first but that was a mistake. I apologise for that.)

_Red_. 

Red had been a colour that he had despised, and later learned to like and almost...cherish.

Those moments when tumbling across rooftops and jumping from walls and slicing some insignificant Briggon’s neck, watching the blood pour onto the ground and splatter on the wall made the alleyways fill with almost _maniacal_ laughter.

Right now that beautiful red was all he could see. The puny, _worthless_ little maggot was going around and reading something he really, _really_ shouldn’t read. The adrenaline from years past came flooding through him.

 _Kill him_.

 ** _Kill him_**!

The voice echoed in his head. _Kill_ , _kill_ , _kill him_... ... kill?

When he laid down the old newspaper he pondered over the text he just read. Looking up he caught a glimpse in the mirror.

Oh.

The thing from before was even scarier now.

It _was_ the man, Ja’far!..It was just that his eyes were just dark _slits_. His body was covered in wounds and blood, his white hair now grey and messy, dried blood covering a few tips.

His face didn’t express anything. Just those eyes, those narrow eyes... akin to a venomous snake ready to strike.

Strike and kill. Kill h-

“..Him.” Came a sultry voice that made Sinbad shiver head to toe, every hair stood on end as he turned his head to the pale, scrawny and bloody man.

He didn’t know when his mantra had transferred from his brain to his mouth. The words kill him repeating again and again and again.

Making his way over to the boy his grey eyes shot wide, a grin slitting up his face.

The thought of seeing that handsome young boy bloody and tore up, slashed _raw_ with broken bones sticking out of the skin made Ja’far knees buckle.

Seeing that cute face blue and twisting with pain as he wrapped his cold hands around the boys throat would probably make him _orgasm._

The mantra came again, stronger this time. Kill him, kill him, kill hi- Wait...what was he doing? He sat down heavily on the bed. The terrified Sinbad scurrying of into a corner of the bed he stared at Ja’far, not through the mirror, because he could actually _see_ him.

The blood slowly disappeared until a handsome man with white hair and a look of disbelief painting his graceful features sat at Sinbad’s bedside. 

“How could I?” The voice was defeated, slightly sad and angry. 

Sinbad tried calming his beating heart and surprisingly it went well until the man looked up. 

He had the palest skin Sinbad had ever seen, white hair framing his face and freckles dusting his nose. 

Those sharp grey eyes were now black and concerned. 

The man- _Ja’far_ , his mind said to him, reached out a strong, but gentle hand to touch his cheek. Stroking his face the ghost murmured something he couldn’t hear. 

The hand stroked down his neck and the ghost (because that’s what it was, right?) took it away. Smiling softly the ghost put his index finger on Sinbad’s forehead he ran it down until it came to the tip of his nose.

“I apologise, I should have never done something like that.” Came the Oh so sweet voice. It wasn’t deep, but Sinbad didn’t really have a word to describe it, it was sweet and soft and soothing and he could _damn well_ allow that voice to eat him up.

“My name is Ja’far. I live in this house, or rather, i haunt it.” A gentle smile gave way for any of Sinbad worries, it was just so- “If I’m correct your name is Sinbad or ‘Sin’ right?”

God help his teenage fantasies this man is not helping the heat pooling in his stomach at all. He didn’t know why Ja’far made him so hot and tingly all over but he really liked it. Ah, a bit to much.

“Is there something I could do?”

“No! Just please go, or like go downstairs or something.” His face felt hot and he could bet on his hair that it was beet red. He curled up on himself to hide ‘it’ so to speak.

Studying his face for a moment Ja’far reached out his hand and placed it on Sinbad’s forehead. “You’re not sick, are you?”

“No...”

“Is there something I can do to help you?”

“No...don’t worry.” His face was flaming, Ja’far sat there, but after a while he walked over to where the forgotten papers where.

“I don’t know why I got so angry over these old papers...” he trailed his fingers over the news article.

“My apologies, I should not have tried attacking you before.” The man (ghost?) turned towards Sinbad, his mouth were turned into a smile and those dark, deep eyes were staring right at him, the sunlight went through him as if he was nothing more than dust floating gracefully in the old attic. At least ‘it’ have gone down.

“Can I touch you?” Jafar blinked and stood still for a moment before smiling again.

“Because I’m a ghost?”

“Yes.” Jafar chuckled.

“Go ahead.”

His hands ran all over the ghost. His head, torso, legs, feet, but before he could continue the ghost said: 

“Stop, stop, stop.” Jafar waved his hands and placed them on Sinbad’s shoulders. “What are you doing?”

“You said I could touch you...” The boy pouted at the interruption.

“Feels more like you are desperately clawing my clothes of.” The ghost murmured, to himself more then the boy.

“You’re cold.” Sinbad said after a while.

“I’m dead, I’m probably going to be pretty cold.” Jafar chuckled again.

“Yeah...I just didn’t feel it when you were touching me, you also feel kinda like water.”

“Water?” He raised one amused eyebrow.

“Like you’re there but not really.”

“I see.”

Ja’far opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Esra shouted from down stairs.

“Sin! Dragul is here!” Sinbad perked up.

“Drakon!?”

“It’s Dragul!” A Young boy’s (or teenager’s) voice came from downstairs, the sound of shoes stomping up the stairs were loud and so was the ‘dammit!’ Ja’far let out.

Ja’far quickly _disappeared_ , the only thing left was the wrinkles on the bed and the dust whirling around in the air.

The door slammed open and there stood a tall, dark green haired teenager. Clad in a t-shirt, jeans and large boots.

“Sinbad!” Sinbad was pulled out of his thoughts about the ghosts disappearance and quickly jumped up and hugged his best friend (rival).

“Hey!” Drakon’s face turned beet red as he pushed Sinbad of him.

“Hina, Mystras and Serendine wanted to go out to town today...since you moved to our town I wanted you to come with us.”

Sinbad’s face lit up. “Of course! We can take the bus if you want to!”

A small smile made its way on Drakon’s face.

“Sure, come on.”

If Drakon would have glanced over to the mirror on the wall he would have seen a pale, bloody, suit clad man standing in the corner, watching their every move.

Jafar sighed, and got out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He flicked on the lighter and lit the cigarette, the smoke slowly began to rise to the ceiling with every breath out, moving along with the dust in the room.

“Maybe I’ll go out to town also.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is gonna be on hiatus until I’m done with some other things, other fics. If you like this fic then don’t worry, it’s not abandoned, just on hiatus. :D


End file.
